


Good Morning San Diego

by Smoakin_dontburnyourself



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, F/M, Morning news
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoakin_dontburnyourself/pseuds/Smoakin_dontburnyourself
Summary: The Morning News Co-Anchors AU that literally no one asked for





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this AU but here I am. 
> 
> Ginny meets Mike in his *Private* dressing room

Her first day on the job, Ginny is welcomed by the sight of Mike Lawson’s bare ass.

She’d been rushing down the streets of San Diego, sweaty and panting against the heat of one of the city’s famously bright and sunny mornings.

It was her own stupid fault really, her only pair of heels, read: _only pair_ , had been buried under a heaping pile of shit that she really couldn't even attest to bringing to her new apartment in the first place. And because she couldn’t very well show up to her first day as an actual news anchor with only her Vans, she’d been looking for them like a madwoman for what felt like an eternity but in real time only converted to about 45 minutes. She’d even called Ev thinking that maybe they’d slipped into one of her boxes when they moved out of their shared apartment in Boston. They hadn’t, and she only ended up getting the  _ why in the world do you only have one pair of heels _ lecture

Ev was right, of course, fat lotta good that did her now. She’d resigned herself to showing up in sneakers, failing to bring literally the only thing that had been requested of her, Appropriate, professional footwear. Ginny really doubts that the memo covers worn out canvas sneakers.

She ended up finding them after, and only after, she’d tripped over one of the many cardboard moving boxes labeled “Ginny’s Shit”

How fitting

And then she was rushing, ramming past entire crowds of commuters, eyes locked in the direction she needed to go, down two blocks and then a left.

Ginny tried to comfort herself with the idea that this was the new normal, elbowing past crowds of disinterested people all trying to get to a different destination as quickly as possible. This was the city life, time is money sort of thing. Besides, who doesn’t rush on their first day at a new job in a new city?

Right?

 

That's what she tells herself at least, as she finally makes it to the studio and then down an unfamiliar hallway, her sneakers spanking the tiles in their haste.

The numbers nailed to the doors pass her by in a scramble of gold plated plaques

“233, 234, 235” her eyes scan the doors, murmuring the passing numbers under her breath in an effort to remember which one Amelia had said would be her dressing room.  

A quick glance at her watch tells her that if she doesn’t get dressed in the next fifteen minutes she’ll miss her first screen test at Good Morning San Diego.

So in the end it all boils down to a jolt of panic.

Her hand shoots out and grips a doorknob, the door flings open, and her eyes all but pop out of her face.  

The first thing she notices are the freckles that pepper the skin of his back.

The second thing she notices is that room 236 is definitely  _ not  _ her dressing room  

And so naturally, she shrieks

“Oh my god!” it isn’t loud, more for herself really, but it’s  enough to startle Mike into almost toppling over the pair of boxers that he had been able to get halfway up his legs before her intrusion

“What the fuck-” They’re checkered, his boxers, and when he manages to get them over the shapely ass that had just been on full display, the fabric clings lovingly onto his thighs.

In retrospect, there was a good way to handle this situation and a bad way

She should have shut the door immediately, she should have apologized profusely to her new co-anchor, only one of the best in the country, only  _ the Mike Lawson _ . 

She should have cracked a joke, said something smooth and contrite

She should have

but instead she stares, her eyes drinking in every inch of freckled skin.  

She also could have been more subtle with her gawking

But of course she doesn’t do that either

 

Mike turns, makes eye contact, and before she can begin to deliver any sort of apology, it’s too late, he’s already towering over her, leaning against the doorframe of his dressing room, his chest eye-level and his beard smirking as if beside itself with amusement.

“Look what we’ve got here, Ginny Baker in the flesh” His eyebrow tilts upwards as if expecting her to say something.

_ I’m sorry I barged into your room and ogled your naked ass, oh and I also use to record all your segments on Wake Up USA when I was a teenager, I have them all on VHS tape _

Ginny opens her mouth but it’s dry, far too dry to actually say words

“You’ve been the hot topic around here for weeks” he continues, not missing a beat despite her apparent inability to construct a sentence.

His eyes trail over her face in a not-so-subtle once over. He studies her unblinkingly, as if trying to determine if she lives up to the hype. Youngest anchor on prime time T.V, Ivy league grad, top of her class, and the latest addition to the cast of Good Morning San Diego. Some say she’s a miracle for morning slot news, the look on Mike’s face is inconclusive as to if he agrees.

With a final tilt of his head, Mike pushes off  the door frame, leaving the door open in invitation

Ginny’s feet feel cemented to the threshold of his room, she doesn’t think she can move, not even if she would have thought it appropriate to do so, seeing as it’s her Co-anchor’s  _ private _ dressing room.

Not that it’s so private with her still staring at his muscles as he moves about the room.

“That's not easy for me, you know, not being the center of attention- they tell me I’m a narcissist” He says it with a covert hand covering the side of his mouth as if he were divulging her a secret. it’s a joke, obviously, a  _ let's put the fact that you saw me buck naked behind us _ sort of thing

Oh god, he’s throwing her a bone

 

He slides on his shirt in a swift movement and without breaking eye contact, his sinewy back disappears under the fabric of the white button-down

Ginny laughs, a sound that she herself doesn’t recognize as an actual laugh and then she cringes, actually cringes at how ridiculously awkward she’s being

If Mike notices any of that crippling awkwardness, he doesn’t mention it, instead he sits on one of his padded chairs and reaches out for a pair of socks  

Ginny cleares her throat after a moment and Mike looks up at her from where he’s sliding on the second of his black socks  

“I should tell you- I used to watch you every morning before school, you’ve been my favorite anchor since-”

“Don’t” he stands on his newly sock clad feet and begins working to pull on his trousers

“It makes you look stupid” he explains, doing the zipper and then the button

“Makes me feel old” he continues, scrunching his face as if physically pained by the thought

“I-”

He waves a dismissive hand and makes his way back to lean against the doorframe, this time fully clothed and only missing his signature yellow tie.

“Get dressed, Rookie. Wouldn’t want to miss your first screen test with the  _ one and only _ Mike Lawson, now would you?”

_ Wow, well they weren't kidding about the ego _

She’d had her suspicions, having read countless articles about Mike Lawson the premadonna of morning news. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t defended his honor in her own head against those accusations. But seeing it now, reflected in his hazel eyes, twinkling in the form of self-assurance, there was no doubt left in her mind that Mike Lawson had a  _ very  _ healthy ego.

 

Ginny scoffs and turns on her heel, intent on leaving before remembering what had gotten her into this debacle in the first place.  

She stares down the hall of identical looking doors realizing that she has no clue which one belongs to her

As if reading her mind, Mike chuckles, turning to fetch his tie, swinging the door closed but not before throwing the answer to her unspoken question over his shoulder

“Room 243, Baker”

“Thanks” she murmurs, more petulantly than she would have liked, though she doubts he hears her.

 

Ginny moves towards the door, which opens with an almost judgemental screech of its hinges.

Once in the safety of her own dressing room, Ginny lets out a long sigh

“Well how about that for first impressions”

From across the hall, down a couple of rooms, and behind a closed door, Mike sighs out a laugh, smiling despite himself as he fidgets with the knot of his tie.

  
“This is gunna be fun” he says, giving it the last pull.


	2. Casual (but not actually casual, you know what? just wear a fucking cocktail dress)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia hands Mike his ass among other things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, THANK YOU all for your sweet, amazing, heartwarming, and encouraging comments they really do mean a lot and each one made me smile like a fool. 
> 
> Secondly, I'm having so much fun writing this story. I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter

If one thing is made crystal clear to Mike upon Ginny Baker’s arrival it’s that he’s not to pull any of his  _ regular shit _ . 

 

Because that’s a thing now, apparently, 

 

and he’s some sort of danger to new pretty co-anchor’s, apparently. 

 

In reality, he knows that he's caused enough scandal for two lifetimes. It's bad for business, the whole messy drawn out divorce situation especially when it’s as messy and as drawn out as it had been with Rachel. Any press is good press, or so they say. But, he’d come to find, networks tend to draw the line at their lead morning anchor getting shitfaced drunk at a gay bar of all places to get over the fact that his ex-wife didn't want him back. 

 

Not to mention that said ex-wife had once been his Co-anchor and not to mention that said ex-wife and ex co-anchor now worked for Wake Up Today. Which was only the morning talk show that in Oscar's own words, is the beginning of the end for their ratings 

 

yeah,  _ messy _ is an understatement 

 

  
So, all this taken into consideration, it’s safe to say that when he hears the unmistakable echo of Amelia Slater approaching, he isn’t exactly surprised. 

 

He’s walking to mic check, flinching each time his shoes squeak on the newly cleaned floors. His back hurts, his neck is stiff, and his tie feels like a noose around his neck. It only seems to grow tighter when he surrenders to the glare he can feel burning into his back. 

 

The woman really does give a new meaning to the  _ if looks could kill _ thing 

 

Mike lets out a breath of resignation, eyeing the coffee in his hand and taking a long sip before turning into what he imagines will be some sort of ass handing.

 

He’s not wrong.

 

“Ginny Baker is off limits” She says, as her choice of greeting 

 

The words smack him in the face before the coffee has a chance to settle in his gut

 

Mike cleares his throat, dislodging a grunt from his windpipe.  

 

“Yeah, good morning to you too” he says, not sparing her the sarcasm

 

Amelia, apparently in no mood for niceties, folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot once, twice, three times

 

“I need your verbal consent. I need you to speak the words, Mike”

 

_ Yeah, and I need something stronger than fucking coffee  _

 

His beard tingles and the cup of coffee in his hand grows almost unbearably hot in his fist

 

Shes staring, waiting for him to say something

 

Mike considers telling her that he’s already technically gotten to first base. Ginny has already seen him naked, accidentally or not

 

Briefly, he wonders what it would have been like in a more purposeful and  _ private _ setting. 

 

_ Jesus fuck, was he really incapable of any degree of self-control? _

 

Mike frowns and represses the thought, squinting past Amelia’s shoulder before continuing   

 

“What are you, Jealous or something?” He snorts “Because if you are, I’m sure we could work something out as consenting adults” he adds, shooting for charming but feeling himself fall flat 

 

“Or something” she deadpans, looking impatient, like she’s fighting the urge to check her watch. 

 

The urge wins and she doesn’t seem to like what it tells her

 

“You’re wasting my time” 

 

“You’re the one who chased  _ me _ down. Plus, I didn’t peg you for the jealous type. If you wanted another ride on the Lawson Express, you coulda just asked-”  The mock horn pulling gesture is probably overkill but he figures he’s already on her shit list so what's the harm in a little fun? 

  
  
  


She doesn’t look impressed, much less appeased

 

“That was a one time thing” 

 

“Hmmm, three time thing if memory serves-” Mike fakes thoughtfulness for a second  “and a half if you count that one time in the janitor's closet last month”   

 

She doesn’t so much as blink 

 

“She’s not one of your groupies, Mike. She looks up to you, don’t screw this” Her eye contact is harsh and he tightens his grasp on the styrofoam cup, it's a wonder it doesn’t crack. 

 

“ _ Jesus _ , you think I don’t know that? What do you think? that I’m some sort of mindless perv who only thinks with my dick?” 

 

This time its Amelia who fakes thoughtfulness and Mike lets out a strangled laugh in the form of a breath, if only to break the tension.

 

“Listen, you’re not the only one who did their homework, she's got talent” He's serious, at least about that. He watched some of her college work, amateur level stuff, broadcasted only to her school, good work nonetheless, more than good, pretty damn good if you ask him. 

 

Amelia considers him for a moment before deciding that it's all she’s going to get for now. 

 

_ For now _ , the look in her eye promises him that much 

 

she nods once and is on her way, wasting no time with goodbyes 

 

“Nice talking to you too” Mike grumbles, taking another swipe at his coffee. 

 

He checks his own watch, 8:37 am 

 

_ Ah a personal record  _

 

she usually waits until after lunch to hand him his ass.

 

Mike rolls out his shoulders but it does nothing to ease the point of pressure that throbs there. As he walks on set he hears the sound of Ginny Baker’s horsey laugh floating over the buzz of the production team preparing to go live. She’s wearing heels instead of sneakers and a dress instead of the activewear he had met her in not that long ago. She cleans up nice, but of course he already knew that.   

 

Over the fuss of pre-show chaos, Ginny meets his gaze  

 

and for some reason all he can think is 

 

_ Fuck _

 

* * *

Three weeks later Ginny is sitting in the middle of a bar, surrounded by people who are talking to her, about her, and over her head all at the same time. She laughs and smiles and nods in all the right places (It’s a welcoming party after all and she’s trying to look welcomed)

 

When Amelia had told her that the network would be hosting a small get together to celebrate her arrival, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. The room was packed with well dressed people attempting to look casual and failing

 

The invite should have said:  _ Casual (but not actually casual, you know what? just wear a fucking cocktail dress) _

  
  
  


“Baker” 

 

She turns to find Mike standing there. He's wearing one of his usual suits, minus the tie, plus several inches of skin left exposed by two undone top buttons. Theres hair there, brushing up against the seams of the fabric and for some reason Ginny finds it hard to pry her eyes away. 

 

“Oh thank god, finally a familiar face” 

 

Mike smirks with a lopsided lift of his beard    

 

“I see she fed you to the sharks right away, no kiddie pool or nothin” he tilts his head towards where Amelia is working her way around the room, brushing shoulders with her graceful hand 

 

_ How are the twins doing? Send Susan my congratulations on the new position. Jenny! How’s Mark doing at Stanford? _

 

Damn that woman really is a force of nature

 

She nods

  
  
  


Mike takes a step forward and holds up his hand trying to get the bartender’s attention. He smells like some sort of manly spice and a hint of the fancy booze and finger food that surrounds them. 

 

“You know, my party wasn’t nearly this fancy” Mike says, accepting a beer from the busy bartender. He sounds like he might be offended by the fact but the humor in his eyes gives him away. 

 

“Well, that was what, in the stone age?” she asks, pretending to count the years on her fingers “I mean, that was like way before electricity so can you really blame them?” 

 

Mike rolls his eyes and it makes him look as carefree as she’s ever seen him 

 

“Good one, Baker” It's sarcastic but he’s laughing so it couldn’t have been that bad

 

“Shaving the beard might help with the caveman jokes, just a thought” 

 

“You love the beard” 

 

“I  _ tolerate _ the beard for the sake of ratings”

 

Mike laughs, completely, with his cheeks and with a twinge of pink coloring the tips of his ears. Ginny takes a long drink of her beer, watching him from behind the neck of the bottle. 

 

“Everyone’s a comedian” he mumbles before also taking a drink of his beer. 

 

Their eyes meet mid-drink and she can’t tear them away. 

 

_ She doesn’t want to _

 

There's no trace of humor left as he blinks and she swears that she can see the shadow that his eyelashes cast on his cheekbones. 

 

For a couple more swallows, they hide behind the muddy colored glass of their alcohol.   

 

Ginny swallows what’s left of the beer in her mouth and licks her lips, tasting his gaze on the path of her tongue.  

 

Everytime she blinks reminds her of the freckles on his back.

 

Before she can say anything, Amelia appears behind her

 

“Mike”

 

“Amelia”

 

Amelia barely spares him a glance before she’s pulling Ginny away into the sea of smiling faces.

  
None of them laugh with their cheeks   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that Mike Lawson's eyelashes deserved a cameo, right?

**Author's Note:**

> 1 review = 1 smack on Mike Lawson's ass


End file.
